


Providence

by lackadaisically



Category: Gravity Falls, ParaNorman (2012)
Genre: Horror, M/M, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Slow Burn, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-17 02:23:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12355524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lackadaisically/pseuds/lackadaisically
Summary: It had been years since Norman could see the Dead, and he wasn't complaining. He had built a comfortable life for himself on the West Coast: had a good job doing something he liked, and people who genuinely cared for him. Even if he had felt something was missing. However, a chance encounter with a mysterious set of twins overturned all that he had built, sending him headlong into a journey of danger, supernatural fright, and a divine conspiracy that stretched beyond centuries. Where will the journey lead? Will he even like where it goes? Will he find the thing he has striven for the most? Or will his whole life fall to ash?





	1. Chapter 1

During this time of year, the shop was packed with customers.  It was late summer when tourists crowded the South California beach either swimming, sunbathing, drinking, or corralling their rambunctious children, looking for shells or using metal-detectors in the sand. Even crowded into the shops that bordered the beach like strangers dying of thirst flocking to the only oasis within a hundred miles.

 This year was different. Strange weather phenomena plagued the little beach town with freak thunderstorms blooming lightening and swollen blood-red rain. Not that Norman was complaining. He could confess to seeing stranger things. He was one of two employees working in a small hole-in-the-wall tattoo parlor quaintly dubbed _Inktastic_. The name wasn't his idea—Norman guessed the owner had a few screws loose, even if he was a good guy.          

The opening chords of _Little Ghosts_ filled the small lobby with quiet ambiance, and Norman tapped his fingers to the beat against a store copy of _Inked_ he was killing time with. The song reminded him of years long past, when things seemed less complicated. His co-worker, a woman by the name of Grace, scoffed to the tune. She was probably a couple years older than him, with pale skin and long black hair that reached her shoulders. She had a contradictory style—always black clothes in a very Gothic fashion, but the tattoo's that littered her skin were varying occult and religious symbols. She even had a sliver Saint Peters Cross dangling from around her neck. She had once claimed her style was _Goth for God._ The irony in the statement caused Norman to laugh the first time… it had since grown on him.

“This song again?” she sighed in clear annoyance, like it was Norman's fault the song was playing.

“I like this song.” Norman replied, eyes never leaving the magazine he was reading.

“Jack White is a tool, and you know it, Prendergast.”

Norman shrugged, looked up from his reading material, and offered her the brightest closed eye smile he could muster. “If you say so Grace.”

Before the woman could retort, the chimes alerting the store to new customers rang. “Are you sure about this, bro-bro? I mean, it's permanent!” A female’s voice filled the space even at a whisper, becoming primary to Jack White's tenor. Norman glanced up from the article and noticed two figures filled the lobby, a man and a woman. At first Norman took them for a couple, but disregarded that thought upon further inspection. They were similar in some respects—same brown eyes and hair, except the man's hair was hidden under a ball cap (he could only tell because of the patches of facial hair peppering the man's cheeks and chin, and the few loose strands poking from the edges of the cap). The woman had on a baby blue blouse with the words _Check out These Puppies_ over her breasts, and a very well sown on picture of a litter of puppies.  Her jeans were bland in comparison. The man had on a dingy flannel shirt, covering a graphic X-Files Tee, he wore a pair of khaki board shorts, and converse sneakers. They carried themselves similarly, but had vastly different energies about them. They were more than likely siblings—twins by the looks of them. They were quite the attractive pair.

“You know it's the only way, Mabel.” the man commented quietly to his sister. And she nodded, but still held an unsure look about her while he continued talking in a tone too low for Norman to make out.

“Welcome to Inktastic.” Norman greeted, catching the attention of the new arrivals. “What can I help you with today?”

The woman looked up from her brother, and broke out into a grin. Her teeth aligned perfectly and almost seemed to glow under the iridescent lighting. “Hello handsome.” she said as she approached the counter Norman was leaning against. “We're here to get a tattoo—well, he is! I'm just here as moral support. In case he cries like a baby.” The grin never left her face, and she seemed to bat her eyelashes at him.

“Mabel!” the man cried sardonically, heat blooming across his cheeks. Norman thought the blush made him look cute, then he stuffed the thought into the back of his mind.

He chuckled, and felt Grace roll her eyes. “First time getting a tattoo?” Norman asked the man, who seemed to regain his composure.

“Uh, yeah. I've kind of wanted one for a while, but never knew what to get... until recently.” the man admitted sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his head.

Norman smiled good-naturedly and said, “I know what that’s like.” He really did. Even though he already had quite a collection himself. “What are you looking to get?”

The man reached into the back pocket of his khaki shorts, and pulled out a folded sheet of paper and handed it to Norman. He unfolded it and looked at the design. It was simple enough, a five-pointed star broken where some of the lines met, encircled by flares and symbols that seemed familiar, but he couldn’t place why. He studied it for a moment before asking the man “Any clue where you want it?”

“Any suggestions where it would hurt less?” the man asked with an awkward grin.

“Bicep is a good place for your first tattoo... but it really doesn't matter where you get it. It always kind of hurts. Some say that’s part of the allure.” Norman responded. “Now, any clue on how big you want it?”

“That size.” the man replied.

“Alright. It'll take me a bit to get it stenciled on a transfer...” Norman said, not glancing up from the design in his hand. The longer he stared at it the more he felt drawn to it, like the symbols were calling out to him, almost magnetically. “...if you'll talk to my associate, Grace—over there,” he gestured to the woman behind the cash register “she'll take down some of your information and get your money. I'll come and get you when I'm ready Mister...?”

“Pines,” the man said. “Di— _erm—_ Stanley. Stanley Pines.” the man said.

“Nice to meet you Stan.” Norman said extending his hand. “My name's Norman.” He took his hand and shook it in greeting. His expression was curious, almost like he recognized Norman. The man shared a look with his sister.

It took Norman half-an-hour before he was happy with the transfer. It wasn't that he had problem's copying the symbols down. It was more esoteric than that, the more he worked on it the more he could almost see a strangeness in it. Like it was woven in magic. At one point, while he was concentrating at his hardest, etching the details on some of the symbols on the circumference—a feeling of _not being there_ came over. Like he was watching himself make the drawing. The weirdest part: he was washed in a sense of déjà vu.

Norman shook out a dizzy feeling that suddenly invaded his mind, and he returned to the lobby with the stencil in hand. He found the two talking with Grace behind the register. They must have asked her about her more prominent tattoo, because he heard her give the usual explanation.

“... _Eye of Providence_.” She said, referred to the brand on her chest. A gilded triangle with a single eye affixed in the center. “Some people call it the All-Seeing Eye, or _All-Seeing Eye of God._ It generally means that God is looking favorably down on who-or-whatever uses the symbol.” She was smiling sweetly at the two, obviously proud of her knowledge on it. The twins shared a look, like they had seen a ghost. Norman knew a thing or two about that look.

“Stan,” Norman called out, catching the man's attention. “You ready?” The man snapped his attention to him, and gave a nod.  “Good, right this way please.” He gestured with an arm into the back—where his work space was located. “Have you decided where you want it?”

“Uh, yeah. My shoulder blade, I guess?”

“That’s kind of a painful area for a first tattoo...” Norman noted as he led the man to his workspace.

“It is? Oh... well, screw it. Go big or go home. Right?” the man chuckled to himself sounding thoroughly nervously.

Norman replied with a polite smile, and directed the man towards the stool he had set up in the middle of his space. “Sit right here please. Thank you.” Norman began gathering his tools and setting them on a small medical tray strafing the side of the stool. “Nervous?”

“A little.” the man replied, his right leg bouncing his curled fist with neurotic energy.

“Don't be.” Norman said trying to soothe the tension he was feeling as he gathered his inks, needles, and other supplies. “Since it's your first time, I'll be gentle with you.” He tried to make it sound more joking than flirtatious, and started to regret his phrasing until he saw the red bloom of a blush sprout across the man's face, and he let it go.

He tested his tattoo gun, and it buzzed to life. After a few adjustments, he sat the gun down and found his rolling desk chair and sat it in. “Okay, so. You can take your shirt off for this half-way or all the way. I don't care.” Norman instructed, and the man pulled his shirt off, and bundled it up in his lap. “I'm guessing Grace went over the general stuff with you, and the aftercare?” The man nodded, facing the mirror against the far wall, his bare shoulders squared in front of him. Across his back freckles dotted thickly like a kaleidoscope of constellations against a milky sky. “Good, so then we can just get started. I'm going to shave the area first—just a general precaution so I get all the ink in. Don't worry, it's not going to grow in thicker. That's just an old wives’ tale.”

“Oh, thank God.” he replied. Norman took a disposable razor and began clearing the area of fine hairs. “You're not from around, are you? You still have an accent. Sounds north-eastern-ish? Where are you from?” The man asked.

Norman chuckled. “Yeah, um, I’m from a small town up around Boston, actually.” He finished, and tossed the razor into the trash bin next to his desk. He then rubbed the area with an antiseptic cloth, and applied the transfer, then a moist paper towel on top. “Okay, little warning. The line-work is going to be the hardest part. After that, you'll start to get used to it.” The man nodded, as Norman removed the towel and transfer paper. He then pulled the medical tray closer to him, fit with fresh inks and a pair of surgical gloves which he slipped on to his long fingers with ease. “Ready?”

When the man nodded, Norman picked up his tattoo gun and it buzzed to life in his hand. “Where are you from?” he asked as he applied the needle to the man's skin. Norman had to give him some credit, he didn't flinch, or burst into tears as he begun the needle-work. It was more than he could say for some first-timers.

“Ahh— _uh._ Up north a couple hours. Piedmont.”

“What brings you all the way down here?” Norman asked.

“I heard you guys give the best tattoo's in the state.” the man replied with a pained chuckle.

“You heard right.” Norman responded with an amused note in his voice. They descended into a broken silence as he worked. Occasionally they would ask each other irrelevant questions, _how old are you,_ (which Norman found he was a year younger than the man he was tattooing), _Where'd you go to school._ Mundane things of the like. At one point, half-way through the line-work, the man asked him: “Is she your girlfriend?”

“Who, Grace? Nah. She's just my co-worker, but sometimes I think she'd like to be.” Norman replied.

“Why not man? She's pretty hot.”

“Yeah, but she's really not my type.”

“What is your type?” The man asked with genuine curiosity. Norman didn't respond, and the question was left floating in the air. Not much longer after that Norman was finished with the outline, and he sat his needle-gun down on the tray. “Want to check out the progress?” When the man nodded, he handed him a hand-held mirror, and motioned to the full-length mirror he had been staring at.

The man grinned at him, obviously pleased with the work so far. “It looks great!”

“I’m glad you’re liking it. The hard part is over, now I just need to fill it in and you should be good to go.”

The man took his seat again, and Norman begun to finish his work. It took just a little longer than the actual line-work. It wasn’t difficult, just time consuming. After a while, curiosity started tugging at his mind, and Norman had to ask. “So, uh… I got to know man, what’s with the pentagram?”

“Pentacle.” The brunette corrected. “Not a pentagram.”

“Oh, yeah, no. Of course, I didn’t mean to offend you or anything. You just don’t seem like usual type that gets one of these tattoos.”

The brunette let out another pained chuckle, “You didn’t offend me, dude. Ha. It’s what it’s called, though. A lot of people get them mixed up, so it’s alright.”

Norman made a mental note to research the difference. “Okay. Well, what’s it for?”

“Oh, um…” the brunette fidgeted nervously. “It’s for protection. From bad karma, evil intentions, ghosts, demons. Stuff like that.”

“Oh…” Norman paused his work and the buzz of his gun fell silent. “…you believe in that kinda stuff?”

Without missing a beat, the brunette replied. “Absolutely. Don’t you?” Norman shrugged and dropped it, but he felt a cold chill crawl up his spine, like someone had just walked over his grave. He shook the feeling, and the tattoo gun buzzed back into life in his hand as he continued his work.

When he finished, he sat his needle-gun down and cleaned off the tattoo of the excess ink and little blotches of blood. “All done. That wasn’t bad for your first ink, was it?”

The man stood from his seat, and looked at the new tattoo adorning his shoulder. “It looks great, man! Thanks!”

“It’s no problem, dude. Right this way.” Norman beckoned the brunette to follow him, and explained a bit more in detail in the after-care of the tattoo… “… so, you can buy the stuff from us—or just go to any drug store and pick up some diaper rash cream. It’s basically the same stuff we use, but a little better, and cheaper, too.”

The brunette nodded, and was busy sweeping the tip of a pen across the palm of his hand, like he was taking notes. “Okay, man. Thanks a bunch. Uh—Norman, right?”

Norman hummed an affirmation in his throat. “Mmhm.”

“Nice to meet you, _officially I guess_ , Norman, but uh—I have to go find my sister.” he said, and Norman noticed that the only woman in the store was Grace.

“Right. Take care of yourself.” Norman replied, and the brunette nodded and left.

“How come you always get the cute ones?” Grace questioned, not looking up from the magazine that was draped across her lap.

Norman couldn’t help but laugh. “I guess I’m just that much of a charmer.”

The woman scoffed, in an odd mixture of amusement and annoyance. “You need a hair-cut Prendergast.”

Norman swept his hands through his black hair that seemed to always point high. The patches on his sides that he had buzzed were starting to grow back full force, and the hair on the top of his crown had just a bit more length than he would have liked. “Yeah… I’ll get that taken care of tomorrow. For now, I think I’m going home.”

“It’s only Five, Norman.” Grace said.

“Yeah, and we close in a couple hours, and we’ve been pretty dead all day. We’ll probably get one or two more guys come in before we close. If we’re lucky. I have faith that you can handle it.” He flashed her as charming of a smile as he could muster. To be honest, he felt shaken and was ready to be home.

Grace sighed in exasperation. “You owe me, Prendergast.”

“Put it on my tab.” Norman smirked, gathered his personal belongings, and headed out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it. At the time of writing this, I am almost finished with act one, and I plan on adding the second chapter within a week, depending on reception. Don't forget to leave kudos!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _...previously..._  
>   
>  “Yeah, and we close in a couple hours, and we’ve been pretty dead all day. We’ll probably get one or two more guys come in before we close. If we’re lucky. I have faith that you can handle it.” He flashed her as charming of a smile as he could muster. To be honest, he felt shaken and was ready to be home.
> 
> Grace sighed in exasperation. “You owe me, Prendergast.”
> 
> “Put it on my tab.” Norman smirked, gathered his personal belongings, and headed out the door.

Optimism was never a part of the plan. Of course, for Dipper Pines, nothing ever goes according to plan. Yet despite the residual throb of pain in his shoulder, he felt good. He found his sister sitting in the driver’s seat of his car: A beautiful teal 1966 Mustang. She held a half-eaten hamburger in one hand, and her cellphone in the other.

On her brother’s approach, she called out from the rolled down window: “Didn’t cry, did you _Stanley_?!” Dipper rolled his eyes at her obvious enunciation on the fake-name he chose to use. He entered the car on the passenger side.

“What was I supposed to do, Mabel? Give him my real name?”

“Uh, doy. That’s what real people do, Dippin’ Dots. Here’s your burger.” She said, dropping a greasy paper bag into his lap. “Grunkle Stan would have been proud.”

He ignored her comments. “Didn’t he seem familiar to you?” Dipper asked as he unwrapped the burger and took a bite.

“Nopfh.” Mabel answered with her mouth full. She chewed, swallowed, and tried again. “Nope, but his name sounded familiar. Norman.” Her voice sounded like she was trying to place a distant memory.

“I doubt he’s a zombie, Mabel… or a group of gnomes hell-bent on marrying you.” Dipper replied sardonically.

“Shame. He’s kind of a hottie.” Mabel took another bite of her mostly eaten burger, and looked lost in thought as she chewed. “Didn’t you kind of have this really weird obsession with a kid on the Internet whose name was Norman?”

Dipper’s face bloomed red in embarrassment. “I-I wasn’t obsessed!” He was quick to defend himself. “I just thought his story was interesting, and I wanted to meet him…”

“Oh, please! I remember you had a file made up for him and everything! You were _completely obsessed._ It was kind of cute.” She mused, and flashed her brother a smile.

He waved her off after taking a bite off his burger. “I doubt he’s the same one…” he spoke with his mouth half-full, chewed, then swallowed, “… but that’s not what’s important right now. Mabel, _did you see—?_ ”

“I saw.” She confirmed.

“Do you think it had anything to do with—?” He asked, and was promptly silenced by his sister erratically shaking her head.

“No. But you never know who he’s influencing until it’s too late. There’s always a possibility I guess. She seemed nice enough, though…” she trailed off, unpleasant memories making her lose her appetite.

“I thought we defeated him.” Dipper said, knowing things were never that simple. He sat his half-eaten burger back onto the wrapper. He lost his appetite as well.

The sun was setting over the ocean, painting the body of water shades of scarlet and orange. It was beautiful, in the uneasy sense of the word. Above the sunset was a body of dark storm clouds labored with rain. Blue-hot veins of electricity occasionally cracked through the dense formation of clouds, giving their surroundings an otherworldly glow.

“Something doesn’t feel right…” Dipper commented, feeling a sharp chill climb his spine. There was something strange going on in this tourist trap of a town, and Dipper was planning on getting to the bottom of it. One way or another.

* * *

 

Norman didn’t make it home for another hour. He was not usually one to procrastinate, but a sense of unease made him stay out for longer than he really wanted. It had been years since he could peer beyond the veil—not since his trek across the states with the Trucker Bob. He could still feel things—when something was amiss, or he was walking through a dense pocket of residual spiritual energy. For some reason, he couldn’t keep his mind off his last client. Whether it be the makings of a crush forming in the pit of his heart, or something else, he couldn’t tell. Eventually he rationalized that it wouldn’t matter: he was likely never to see the guy again.

It was dark by the time he made it to the apartments he called home. A stucco two-story building of Spanish influence, which claimed to be weather-proof, but he had serious reservations about that claim considering how his windows leaked during every rainstorm.

He climbed the outside staircase that lead to his door, and the sound of thunder rolled through the sky as he dug his keys from his front pocket. He could feel the electricity in the air as he turned the key to unlock his door. His gut twisted, and he felt like he was walking into a gunman’s kill-zone as he entered the threshold. But there was nothing. His place looked the exact same as when he left it this morning. Junk mail piled haphazardly on the bar counter. Magazines sprawled out across the coffee table and couch. Everything was the same. Except when he flicked on his lights, the dull fluorescent fixtures hummed to life. Shadows clung to the lights, muting them. The overwhelming smell of burnt meat mixed with something else (was that… rotten eggs?) filled his nostrils. _Why didn’t I noticed that before?_  He thought. The smell was overpowering, and it made his stomach queasy.

The sound of thunder rolled across the sky again, but this time Norman could hear something different. The sound of embers crackling in a fire, and a strange muted laugh that sent shivers down his spine.

The shadows that clung to his walls and lights seemed to grow thicker as he realized what was going on: he wasn’t alone. He stood frozen by the counter. The feeling in his gut subsided, and he breathed in deep, disgusted by the odor and shadows that seemed to fill his lungs. Then it hit him.

A disembodied voice crawled into his ear and whispered: “Found you.” Norman shivered, and the temperature around him dropped. His breath turned to mist in his face. He silently cursed himself, wishing that he could just _see._ But he couldn’t. Not anymore.

“Go away.” He said as calmly as he could, hoping his voice didn’t betray how _terrified_ he felt.

The voice laughed. Long and menacing. Shadows curled around his body, arms, and legs. He could almost feel the pressure they were exerting against him. The smell was more prevalent now, pushing up against him with the shadows. It wasn’t shadows, he realized. It was smoke. It was filling his lungs and pores. He felt _violated_ by it.

“What do you want from me?” Norman asked the smoke as lightening illuminated his windows. A few seconds later, thunder boomed.

“I don’t want anything.” The voice replied, and—yeah, he was NOT just hearing things. “Not me, specifically, at least.” The voice sounded cold—callous. “My master does. He wants you. Alive, preferably. Without your soul.”

Norman opened his mouth to speak, but before he could summon any words, the smoke filled his mouth and throat. He could taste ash on his tongue. It clogged his nostrils, and he couldn’t breathe. He tried to summon the oxygen into his lungs, but it never came. His words died in his throat.

The air around him crackled and shimmered with the laughter that surrounded his being. Smoke curled around his throat, and he swore he could feel _finger_ s pressing where his jugular veins led into his brain.

“That’s it. Submit. There’s nothing you can do.” the voice continued. For a moment, Norman did exactly that. He closed his eyes, and wished—hell, he even prayed. But when his eyes snapped open he could see something through a smoky-veil: a half-melted semi-masculine face, twisted in some sick pleasure as short meaty fingers choked consciousness from him. On his head, the specter had baby-powder white hair in a pompadour style, half blackened and frizzed from flames.

“Who—are—you?” Norman choked out. Fight or flight response filling his bloodstream with adrenaline, and the pressure around his throat slacked for a minute. Like whatever had him was surprised Norman could see him. The translucent face mirrored this in his expression.

“You can finally see me?” the voice was clearer now, and sounded almost effeminate. “Good.” the burned man said, and the pressure around Norman’s throat came back twofold, like there was a since of urgency. “Very good! My master will be thrilled to know his vessel is regaining some power.”

Norman gasped for oxygen, but it felt like all that filled his lungs was the smoke clinging to the burned man. His laughter was becoming louder now, more sinister. It was all he could hear as the world around him gained a haze, and blackness surrounded his vision. He could feel his heartbeat dying in his throat where the smoky fingers curled tighter. He could feel the pace of the beat slowing, _thump-thump… thump-thump… …thump… …thump. Thump…_

_CRASH!_

The door to his apartment exploded inward on its hinges. Sending threads of wood from the door frame spiraling inward. He heard glass breaking, and a screech from the burned man yelling “PINES!” The pressure around his neck was gone, and he could breathe again. He didn’t take his eyes off the specter as it fought with tendrils of white mist that sizzled in the air every place it touched the burned-man or his smoke. The specter had no choice but to flee. The silhouette dissolved into smoke, and dissipated through his air vents.

A sigh of relief was expelled behind him, and Norman spun around to see who it was. _Stanley._ The same guy he had tattooed that evening was standing just inside his door frame with a vial raised over his head. On the ground, right next to him laid glass shards of what Norman could only assume was another vial like the one he was holding in his hand. “Are you okay?!” _Stan_ asked, rushing up to him. “Holy shit, it’s you!” he said, a little confused. Norman didn’t—or likely couldn’t say anything as the man gave him a quick once over, and deemed him uninjured.

“What… just happened?” Norman finally asked, stupidly.

“I only caught the last bit of it, but to me it looked like you were tangled up in smoke…” the brunette said, working the vial back into one of his pockets. “But I’m going to guess you just got targeted by some sort of vengeful spirit. And I just saved your ass.”

Norman looked at him dumbfounded for a moment. He couldn’t deny what he had seen through the smoke, what he heard, but he was still in shock. “No way.” he claimed. “Not possible. How could you possibly know—?”

The burnette cut him off. “That doesn’t matter. Are you okay?” he asked, brown eyes staring at him intently through the light of his florescent bulbs.

“I’m… fine. I guess.”

“Good. Look, I know this is a lot to take in right now. But I believe you’re in danger—and I want to help you. Will you let me?” The brunette said, it only took a single glance into his eyes to know that he was being truthful.

Norman opened his mouth for a moment, closed it, then opened it again. “Okay… sure.”

The look of relief on the brunette’s face was beautiful. “Thank God. I thought you were going to be difficult for a second.” He cleared his throat. “You probably have a lot of questions, and I can give you those answers. But I need you to know something. That spirit knows where you live. It’s not safe for you here. Do you trust me?” The brunette asked.

“Stan, I just met you today!” Norman said with indignation. His confusion made him angry.

“That doesn’t matter! Do you trust me?!”

Norman hesitated, part of him was telling him he had no reason to trust this guy. A man he just met for the second time after what he says a vengeful spirit tried to choke him to death? What reason did he have to trust him? _He saved you._ A familiar voice reminded him. He couldn’t place where the sound came from, but he knew it was right. “Okay… I’ll trust you.”

“Good. It’s not safe for you here. You should come with me, grab anything sentimental or anything you can’t live without. After your done meet me outside. My sister and I can keep you safe. Okay?”

 _Listen to him, Norman._ The voice spoke to him again, soft and feminine. It reminded him of his mother. He would always listen to his mother. “Okay.”

“I’ll give you thirty minutes. Any longer, and I’m gonna assume something bad happened and I’m coming right back for you. And Norman? You can me Dipper.” He said as he turned on his heels, he hesitated for a moment looking back at him and left without saying another word.

Norman stood there for a moment, replaying everything in his mind. He saw the half-burned man. Does that mean he had his sight back? It’s been almost ten years since he willed his sight away. No more ghostly corpses tormenting him for closure. Or simply wanting someone to talk to. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it. _Hurry._ The feminine voice knocked him from his reverie and he set out packing his things. He didn’t really have anything he would consider sentimental: only a few sketch books. Everything else was just… things. Not unimportant, considering he spent the last two years of his life building them, but he couldn’t take it all. He had enough of a mind to pack up much of his clothing in a duffel bag, and stashed a sketch book on top. As he turned to leave, the smell of burning flesh filled his nostrils again. He hadn’t even noticed it had gone until just then as it filled his nose again. It caused a sense of urgency within him, and he was outside before anything else happened.

When he met the Pines Twins they were sitting on the hood of a hatchback Mustang, talking amongst themselves. Dipper hopped off the hood of his vehicle on his approach. “Took you long enough.”

“Yeah. I had… more stuff than I thought.” Norman lied.

“That’s cool, Norm.” Mabel said, showing off her teeth in a smile illuminated by the streetlamps. Overhead, thunder rolled.

“So… I guess I owe you some answers, don’t I?” Dipper said, rubbing awkwardly at the back of his head.

“You do.” Norman countered, setting his duffel on the ground beside himself. “I’m more curious as to how you knew I was in danger.”

“Well, we knew _someone_ was in danger.” Mabel said.

“We didn’t exactly know it was you, though.” Dipper elaborated.

“But how?” Norman asked.

“We… do this thing a lot.” Dipper countered.

“What? Fighting off—what’d you say? Vengeful spirits?” Norman arched an eyebrow.

“And stuff like it.” Mabel said. “Sometimes it’s a regular ghost. Someone who’s clinging on to this plane. We help them pass.”

“Other times it’s more nefarious. Demons, wights, vampires. Were-creatures. Various other cryptids. I’ve had an experience with a zombie a time or two…” Dipper elaborated, then noticed: “You don’t… seem too surprised by all this.”

“Not really.” Norman said. “I’ve known a handful of people who believe… and even had a few experiences as a kid. But nothing that was…” he trailed off looking for the words “…as intense as that?”

“Could you tell us what happened in there?” Mabel asked, her tone soft and soothing.

“Yeah…” Norman said, took a deep breath and he explained everything as best he could. From the weird sensation of electricity in the air when he unlocked his door. The smell of burned flesh, and the darkness that clung to his lights when he flicked them on. How the darkness seemed to take shape, and turn into smoke. He told them how the darkness spoke to him, what he heard, and eventually—what he saw.

“Wait, wait. It spoke to you? You saw it?” Dipper was intrigued. “What—what did you see?”

“It’s… kind of hard to explain.” Norman said. “It looked like… a person? But only, he looked like he was burned, and I swear… I heard him scream Pines when you came in.”

The Twins exchanged a look: Dipper looked angry, and Mabel looked sad.

“Did he say anything else? A name perhaps?” Dipper asked.

“No. He just said… that his master wanted me? For what… I couldn’t say.” Norman answered.

“I know this is gonna sound strange,” Mabel said, “but what kind of hair did he have?” Dipper said her name, and they gave each other another look. Norman almost thought they were communicating telepathically.

“Yeah, it was kind of like… um, smoothed back? Except on top, it stuck out a bit, but it looked mostly burned.” Norman answered.

“No…” Mabel said, and he could feel the sadness behind her words. “It can’t be.”

“Mabel, I know… how it sounds. But there’s no way it can be him.” Dipper said, reaching out to comfort his sister.

“It is, Dipper. Of course, it is. Do you remember what he said? Before—” she cut herself off.

“Who is it?” Norman asked.

“Gideon.” Mabel answered, like it would explain everything. Norman just stared at her, confused.

“He… was kind of a friend? We had a history until… he died.” Dipper elaborated.

“In a fire.” Mabel added.

“That explains why I smelled burning meat, and why he looked charred… but… if he was a friend of you two… why come after me?” Norman asked.

“Who knows? Maybe it has something to do with this Master you said he mentioned. I had a feeling that’s who we were dealing with here, but I thought—” Mabel cut her brother off.

“It doesn’t matter, anymore. Dipper. We know what we’re dealing with now. We should get back. Help Norman so he can go back to his life.”

“Are you sure, Mabel? I mean you two were—” Mabel cut her brother off again.

“It doesn’t matter. He died, and he came back to hurt Norman. We have to help him—wait…” something caused her to break her train of thought “Norman, did you leave something on in your apartment?”

Norman was watching the twins exchange, feeling a bit alienated by the information he didn’t have. Until Mabel spoke to him. “What do you mean?”

“That’s your apartment, right?” She pointed, and his gaze followed the direction up until he saw one of his windows. A flickering glow was shining on the pane, bright and orange. Like flames licking the air.

“Oh no.” Dipper said.

“No!” Norman called out, and the window shattered. Flames poured from the opening, adding oxygen to the fire, which was soon engulfing everything he spent the last two years of his life building. Norman wasn’t thinking, and he turned, making a b-line towards his apartment. _Maybe it’s not too late. If I get to the extinguisher in time, I can put it out!_ He thought to himself. But before he could make it too far, he felt strong arms wrapping around him, trying to root him to the spot: Dipper had caught him.

“It’s too late, man! You can’t—” Dipper had started, but in his anguish, Norman threw an elbow back, and caught him on the mouth with a wet thud before he could finish his sentence. Dipper fell backwards on the asphalt, exhaling a pained noise.

Norman didn’t pay any attention. He only cared about saving what little of his life he had built since he made it to California. He was feet away from the stairwell that led up, when he heard Mabel call to him.

“Stop!” she screamed.

 _Stop, Norman! You’ll die._ Another voice came. Disembodied. The same voice he had heard telling him he could trust these Twins. The same voice that had told him to hurry. The same voice that reminded him of his mother, and he froze. He watched as the flames licked their way out the broken door frame. He collapsed at the foot of the stairs. Tears welled in his eyes. _Why is this happening to me?_ he thought. No answer came.

“Norman…” Mabel had approached him, and set a hand on his shoulder. “We should get back to where it’s safe… Call the Fire Department.”

He glanced up, and through the tears that had formed in his eyes, he saw she was close to crying too. She squeezed his shoulder more, and in that moment, he knew that he could trust her. “Okay.” he said, and rose to his feet. Mabel touched his hand, and he laced his fingers with hers as she pulled him away from the life he had built as it burned to ashes behind him.

Dipper was on the phone when they approached. Giving the operator on the other line Norman’s street address. There was drops of blood rolling down his chin and staining his shirt from where Norman had struck him, leaving a fissure in his lip. “I’m sorry, man.” Dipper said, ending the call after he was sure the Fire and Rescue was on the way. “I didn’t know that was going to happen, or else I would have done something… more. Tried to stop it… anything.” Norman could feel the frustration in his voice.

Norman didn’t say anything, and Mabel’s hand dropped from his grasp. “It’s not your fault.” He finally said. “And I’m sorry, too. About…” he touched the area on his lip where he had split Dipper’s open.

“It’s no biggie, man. I’ve had worse.” Dipper said, with an apologetic tone. “The Fire Department is on their way. Probably along with some cops. Which means I’m gonna get while the getting is good.” He hopped off the hood, and Mabel tossed him the keys to his car.

“I’m going to stay here with Norman.” She announced. “Help him get his story straight for when the cops arrive.”

“Good deal.” Dipper announced. “Call me after it’s over Mabel. I’ll come get you guys… I’m going to make some arrangements for our friend here while I’m at it.” Dipper said as he slid into the driver’s seat, turned the ignition, and was off.

“My brother is allergic to cops.” Mabel announced when Norman glanced at her curiously. The clamor of sirens could be heard in the distance. “Dip’s got your bag. So, you don’t need to worry about your stuff. You’ll get that back after we deal with this.”

“And the cops?”

“We’re going to lie to them.” Mabel smiled sweetly, wrapped her arm around his waist, and looked horrified as the flames spread up the building.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _...previously..._
> 
> “My brother is allergic to cops.” Mabel announced when Norman glanced at her curiously. The clamor of sirens could be heard in the distance. “Dip’s got your bag. So, you don’t need to worry about your stuff. You’ll get that back after we deal with this.”
> 
> “And the cops?”
> 
> “We’re going to lie to them.” Mabel smiled sweetly, wrapped her arm around his waist, and looked horrified as the flames spread up the building.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for perceived homophobia, and mentions of domestic violence.

The Police arrived only a few minutes after the Fire Department. They took Norman and Mabel’s statements. Both of which was prepared beforehand.

They gave them the appearance of being a couple, told them they were relaxing on the couch after work, watching something on their television screen when they thought they had heard sparks, and smelled smoke. They told them they ignored it at first, but when they saw fire they fled and called the fire department as soon as they could.

It occurred to Norman that Mabel was quite the actress as she mostly talked to the officer, enunciating parts of the story. Asking for his input at key questions. She was even able to knock away the Officer’s curveballs without batting much of an eyelash.

“Okay, you two.” The Officer, a gruff sounding man who had taken their statement, said. “If that’s everything. I need to go file the report. You two have some place to stay until the Fire Department complete their investigation?”

“Yeah. My brother lives not too far away. I’ll see if he’ll let us stay with him until we can get back on our feet.” She said, rubbing trail of tears from her face.

“I just need some contact information, in case something else comes up.” The Officer said, and Norman supplied him his phone number.

The officer took his leave, and all that was left was the firefighters staunching the blaze. “I can’t believe we just lied to the Police.” Norman said with unease.

“It comes natural in our line of work.” Mabel replied, referring to her and her brother’s… ghost busting? “What else were we supposed to tell them? A vengeful spirit burned down your home?” she laughed at the absurdity. “Like they would believe that.”

They were walking southbound, on the side of the road until they came to a little 24/7 convenience store.  “I’ll let Dipper know where we are.” She said, pulling out her cell.

“They said they were going to hold an investigation into the fire? What if… they find out we lied?” Norman asked.

“Norm, it takes a massive amount of energy to manifest fire. They will likely find that it was an electrical fire. Ghosts have an easier time manipulating electric currents than willing flames from air.” Mabel explained as her thumbs typed in her phone. The ping of a sent text emanated a second later.

“So… what? You think this Gideon caused my apartment to go up in flames with what? Shoddy wiring?” Norman asked, unconvinced. “How do you know so much about this stuff anyway?”

“Dipper. He did a lot of research after Gideon… died.” Mabel said, slipping her phone into a pocket.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” Norman said.

“It’s okay, Norm… It was a few years ago, I’m over it… almost.” Mabel responded. The sad look on her face caused Norman doubt.

“Look. I don’t want to ask you anything you don’t want to answer, but I’m getting this guy was someone important to you guys…” Norman said. “…but who?”

Mabel looked at him for a moment, then her gaze turned to watch a few vehicles pass. She didn’t speak for the longest time, making Norman think he maybe should have waited before asking that question. He was about to speak again, when she finally said something. “He was our friend, and he came after you… I don’t believe in coincidences, so I guess you deserve the truth. Dipper isn’t around to tell me not to, so here it is…” she took a deep breath, air filling her chest, and began:

“He was my fiancée. We knew him since we were _technically_ _teens_ and he was a bit of a creep back then. He claimed to be a child psychic, but he was actually a child psycho.” She chuckled to herself, and then continued. “He had possession of a cursed object. Even back then, the guy _loved_ me, in a creepy, possessive way. Then he hated me. _Us._ Dipper first, though. But things changed, and eventually he came around _._ We made up?” she shrugged. “He became someone who I even considered a friend. He helped us with our research. Even helped us take down a few werewolves before. He became a trusted third member of this dorky little team my brother and I made… It didn’t take long and he became genuinely charming, I started to fall for him. He wasn’t creepy like he was when we were kids. He even became… a little sweet? We started dating, and even though Dipper hated it: he supported me. He even decided to give Gideon a chance, and… they got close. It got to the point where if there was anything dangerous, Dipper and Gideon would tackle it head on, and keep me a safe distance away. Things were great for a time. No major injuries, until we got this case…” Norman listened to her story, and he even felt saddened by it. He could see the love she still held for him in his eyes. “…it was a level 7 poltergeist. Dipper and Gideon told me it wasn’t going to be a problem from them. Something went wrong… and the house they were investigating… caught on fire. Dipper made it out, but Gideon… He got trapped when a beam collapsed on top of him. I… don’t know anything beyond that.”

“I’m sorry.” Norman said, simply. “I had… no idea. I shouldn’t have asked…” he was ashamed by the pained look in her eye.

“No. Norman. You deserved to know. He came after you, and started that fire. He isn’t the same man I fell for.” Her words were sharp, but they held no malice for Norman. He still lifted a hand, and placed it reassuringly on her shoulder. “Are… you sure you have no idea why he came after you?”

Norman shook his head. “I really don’t know. I have a theory, but…” Mabel raised an eyebrow at him, and just then the skies opened and rain began to fall. Lightening crashed in the distance and lit the world for a split second. The two quickly hurried under the canopy of the store.

“Hold on a second, that’s Dipper. He probably needs to hear this firsthand.” Mabel said, directing his attention to the mustang pulling into the parking lot, Dipper stuck his head through the window and gave them the once over.

“Everything cool?” he asked.

“Except for my apartment being on fire…” Norman said.

“Cool as a cucumber.” Finished Mabel.

“Well, good news for you, Norman. I found a place you can stay for a few days. You two wanna hop in?” Dipper said, and they piled into the hatchback.

The backseat was small, and when he stretched out his legs, Norman nearly took up the entire seat. Mabel locked her seat back in place as she took the passenger side.

“Okay, Norman has a theory on why Gideon came after him…. who… I told him about by the way…” Mabel said, and Dipper turned to glare.

“Mabel—!” Dipper started, but she cut him off, quick.

“Shh! Later. Listen to Norman.”

“Fine.” Dipper said, and put the mustang into gear.

“You were saying, Norman?” Mabel turned to him, and he cleared his throat.

“Well, it has to do with some things I went through as a kid.” Norman elaborated, knowing full well he could trust them. “I used to see things when I was a kid. Ghosts, mostly. I could even carry on conversations with them.”

“But you can’t anymore?” Dipper shot in.

“It’s a bit more complicated than that...”

“What do you mean?” Mabel asked.

“I don’t know? I mean…I hated it for the longest time. I saw it as a curse, but it helped me… save someone, and then I thought maybe it was a gift? Then some complicated stuff happened after I hit puberty, and it got worse. They started hounding me. The Dead. I saw how some of them died, and it became hard to sleep after that. Things got a little tense between me and my dad… and eventually I ran. It only made things worse, on the road. I saw things I don’t even know how to describe. I… thought I was going crazy, and by that time, after I met Trucker Bob… I couldn’t see them anymore.”

“Who’s Trucker Bob?” Dipper asked, eyeing Norman in the back seat through his rearview mirror.

“He was a truck driver who I met outside Buffalo. He was an elderly guy who had this Santa look. Big white beard, big belly, he even had a red flannel jacket he said he wore for the kids. I just think he was being ironic.” Norman explained.

“What happened after that?” Chimed Mabel.

“Well, I thought it was a good thing, but I still had this nightmare. Bob helped me through a lot of stuff. He was super spiritual. He taught me not to be ashamed of who I was, of what I was. He was like a Father to me after my real Dad just—” he stopped, feeling unsure. He was about to divulge extremely personal information. He didn’t know how either of them was going to take it. “I don’t… really know if I want to tell you guys this next part…it’s kind of personal.”

“You don’t have to tell us anything you don’t want to, Norm.” Mabel said, reassuringly. Yet earlier she had told him all about Gideon, and he trusted her. Dipper, was an entirely different story. He held personal reservations for the fact he found Dipper attractive, and he certainly didn’t want to complicate matters any further. He guessed he could just take a leap of faith.

“It’s fine, it’s just that… he hit me… when I was sixteen. He caught me making out with a friend who wasn’t a girl, and he lost it.” He said it quickly, but concise enough to where he wouldn’t be misheard. “I ran away after that.”

“Your dad… hit you…”

“…because he _caught you with a guy?_ ” Mabel finished Dipper sentence.

“Yeah. It helped me figure out some stuff, but when my dad caught us it was like hell had opened up, and he was the Devil.”

“That’s fucked.” Dipper said, an unidentifiable note in his voice that made Norman’s chest contract.

“It was a long time ago. I try not to think about it too much.” Norman commented.

“So…” Mabel started. “You were saying you had a theory on why Gideon attacked you?”

“Oh yeah.” Norman had almost forgotten. “There was something he said. Before I saw him, he said he wanted me alive… even though it felt like he was trying to kill me… but without my soul, and after I saw what he looked like, he said his master would be thrilled to know his vessel, or something, is regaining power? So… I’m thinking that maybe there’s something much worse than him that’s after me. I have no clue what, though.”

“Interesting…” Dipper said, tugging on a few of the whiskers on his chin. “I don’t really know what Gideon could be working for, but if that’s what he said, Norman. You’re probably on to something, there.” He sounded sincere, but why did it feel like Dipper was keeping something from him?

“If this goes deeper than Gideon, can you guys even keep me safe?” Norman asked.

Mabel glanced a look at him. “Right now, we need to deal with what we know. Okay, Norm?”

“So, what do we know?” he asked.

“Well…” Dipper began. “Gideon has come back as a vengeful spirit and is targeting you. Right now, I’d say dealing with Gideon is our highest priority. If we can stop him from getting to you, maybe we can buy us enough time to figure out who he’s working for.” In the distance, a motel popped into view.

“How do you suppose we do that, bro?” Mabel asked.

Dipper looked at his sister for a moment before returning his eyes to the road. “I don’t know, Mabel. I’m only operating on three hours of sleep. Our beds are just ahead, can I sleep on it and get back to you?” She nodded, and Dipper continued. “Norman, because I feel personally guilty that you don’t have a place to sleep tonight, I rented you a room for a couple nights. It’s been warded, and you’ll be safe from Gideon while you’re there.”

“You didn’t have to, but… Thanks...” Norman said.

“A safe place to sleep is important.” Mabel commented as they approached the dingy looking motel. It wasn’t a chain brand, a single story shaped like a horseshoe. As Dipper pulled in, Norman could make out the sun-bleached beige brick, box windows surrounded by black trim, and red colored doors in various stages of being stripped of paint flecks though the car’s headlights.

“Sweet home away from home.” Dipper announced, and cut the engine. He turned around in his seat, directly to face Norman. “I’m really sorry about your place, man. I hope you know that.”

“I know. Why else would you pay for my room?” Norman responded, giving him a look.

Dipper responded with a smile. The split on his lip was cleaned, but swollen black and red. His smile caused a bead of blood to drop down his chin.

They piled out of the car, one by one. Mabel pushing her seat forward so Norman could get out. Behind the car, Dipper was opening the trunk. “Here’s your bag, man.” Dipper said, and Norman pulled it from the trunk.

“Thanks.” he said, shouldering the strap. Dipper handed him a card with a magnetic strip.

“And your room key. If you need anything from us, we’re literally right next door. Get some sleep. We’ll figure this thing out in the morning.” Dipper gave him a good-natured clap on the shoulder, and smiled again—making the fissure in his lip drop blood onto his shirt.

“Thanks. For everything. Guys. I mean it.” Norman said.

“See you in the morning, Norm.” Mabel called out with a melody in her voice. Norman smiled at her. Some part of him really felt like he was connecting with these two.

“Night guys.” he said, as he slipped into his room. He checked the time on his phone. It was nearly three in the morning. Maybe he could forget about everything that had gone on and get a few hours of sleep. He unlocked the door to the room Dipper provided for him, and nothing felt… _off._ He breathed a sigh of relief and dropped on the bed. Outside the storm raged, thunder rolled deep, and he could feel the vibration in the bed. A few crashes of lightening illuminated the world outside his windows. It didn’t take long for sleep to envelop him.

Norman found himself amid a familiar scene, but somehow things felt… _different_. There were four individuals standing in a clearing, surrounded by a grove of trees, but he couldn’t tell who they were. The silhouettes looked familiar, but he couldn’t place them. They were arguing indistinctly, and he could feel the emotion pouring out of them. _Rage, confusion, sadness. Heartbreak._ As he approached they all seemed a blacked out, like they were redacted from an official document. He could only recognize one: himself.

He was standing under a large oak tree. Or at least some version of himself. His silhouette was shimmering with a golden radiance. He was expressionless. The voices finally became legible. “This is how it has to be.” he heard himself say. He realized he was experiencing his nightmare, but not as he had before.

“NO! It doesn’t! We can figure this out! We can go home! Please, Norman. I don’t—” Norman glanced at the figure who was talking. “I love you, dude. Please….”  Norman couldn’t tell who this figure was, and when it spoke it sounded like they were talking underwater. A few feet next to the figure who was yelling stood two more figures huddling together. Even though he couldn’t tell who any of them was: he could tell they were all crying.

“That’s why it must be you.” he heard himself say, his voice sounded cold and emotionless. _Was that even him speaking?_ “You’re running out of time,” his words became indistinguishable for a moment “once he arrives, everything and everyone you care about will be dead.”

“If I do this, I’ll be killing everything I care about.” the shadow responded.

Norman choked, not the body of himself he was watching, but whatever he existed as in that moment.

“So, you would sacrifice the entire world and everything in it? Over what? Your foolish heart? You knew it would end this way.” The body who was not him said. “Fine.” There was a low rumble, and the ground begun to shake, and pools of light opened underneath him. “Then you will all be the first to perish.” Light poured over the body who was not him, but he could feel the invasiveness of light as it seared into his eyes. Crashed into his crown, and ripped down his spine. The dark figures were shouting at him, but he couldn’t hear it over the sound of ground quaking, the sound like laughter booming in his ears, like an erratic heartbeat.

Norman was frozen as he watched the scene unfold, the dark figures shouting at each other, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. Suddenly the ground opened between the dark figures and the Norman that was not him. And the world began to fade around him, giving way to inky blackness. The shouting grew louder, but Norman still couldn’t make out their words. It was like he was listening to them through water. A loud boom exploded like a gunshot, piercing the muddled noises around him.

Norman shot up to find himself safe in his motel bed drenched in cold sweat.

“Morning sleepyhead.” a familiar voice said. Soothing and feminine. For a moment, Norman was confused. He glanced around, saw the clock face read 88:88, but it was too dark to make out anything else.

“Mabel? Is that you?” he called out, and his voice sounded as discombobulated as he felt.

“Nope. Try again.” the voice answered. “Think back, Norman. Way back. Before you met the Twins, before you ran away from home. Back to when you could still _see_.”

The more she spoke, the more familiar she sounded. Her tone was comforting, and reminded him of his mother. “Wait… _Mom?_ ” he asked the darkness, and there was a giggle in response.

“No, Norman. Close, but I’m not your mother.” she responded, and Norman had regained enough of his facilities for him to think clearly.

“You’re the voice that was calling out to me earlier, aren’t you?” He asked the darkness, his legs swinging off the foot of his bed and he stood.

“Yes. That was me.” In the corner of the room, just beyond where the threshold for the bathroom came an iridescent green glow. Norman stood as a woman crossed the doorway. She looked like his mother, if she was closer to Norman’s age. She had long flowing black hair, that framed a round face. Her eyes were the shade of green she seemed to be emanating. Her skin was translucent, yet was a shade of honeyed milk.

“Do you recognize me yet?” She asked, a smile pulling at her lips.

He did, but not as she currently was. He remembered a young girl, bathed in spite and rage, and _power_. He remembered green bolts of energy crashing into his young body. He remembered a tree, standing tall and proud in the center of a grove. He remembered her. “Agatha?” he asked. She looked so different, he had to be sure.

“Yes, Norman! It’s me. It’s been a long time.” It had: ten years, now.

“What… are you doing here? I thought you couldn’t leave the hollow.” Norman asked as he reached out as if to touch her, but his fingers passed through her shoulder, and only grasped air.

“Things have changed, Norman. I’m… different than how I was. Those rules don’t apply anymore. I’m sorry about what happened, for all those things you’ve seen. For your Home. I wish I could have warned you before, but… you couldn’t hear me.” she said, and Norman was really confused. He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. “There’s not a lot of time, Norman. You’ll wake up soon. I needed to give you a message:

You’re more powerful than you can possibly imagine. The strongest of any of my bloodline, and I couldn’t be any prouder. But because of this, you have been targeted by powerful forces older than time. When you met the Twins, they set in motion something that has been centuries in the making. Please forgive them, they had no way of knowing; however, you may be able to stop it, but only with their help. There isn’t a lot of time, you must trust them, Norman. With everything. Do you understand?”

He didn’t know what to think, the amount of information she was cramming into his skull was overwhelming, so he his head.

“You will, one day. Rest easy. Your nightmare will not return in your dreams, but you will live it, but you can stop it… you can stop what’s coming for you.”

“What do you mean, Aggie? What’s coming for me?”

The specter shook her head. “It is not for me to say. Tomorrow, you will meet The Crone. She will provide answers I cannot. I’m so proud of you, Norman.” Agatha had a smile on her face, warm and homely, but she began to fade as she spoke, and her voice with her. “So… Proud…” Were her final words before disappearing in the air, and darkness surrounded Norman once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading! Don't for get to drop a bookmark to keep up-to-date when I release new chapters!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _...previously..._
> 
>  
> 
> _“You will, one day. Rest easy. Your nightmare will not return in your dreams, but you will live it, but you can stop it… you can stop what’s coming for you.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“What do you mean, Aggie? What’s coming for me?”_
> 
>  
> 
> _The specter shook her head. “It is not for me to say. Tomorrow, you will meet The Crone. She will provide answers I cannot. I’m so proud of you, Norman.” Agatha had a smile on her face, warm and homely, but she began to fade as she spoke, and her voice with her. “So… Proud…” She said before disappearing in the air, and darkness surrounded Norman once again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was initially two chapters, but the first felt like filler, so I mashed the two together. It's the longest chapter I have written so far. Hope you guys enjoy!

Norman awoke to someone knocking at his door. “You awake dude?” Dipper called from the other side. Norman turned his head to the side, spotting the clock on the bedside table. It was a little before nine.

“I am now.” he answered weakly, raising his voice a bit so Dipper could hear him on the other side.

“Cool… Well, Mabel and I came up with something… It may help.” Dipper explained. “Meet us in our room?”

“Yeah, okay.” Norman responded. He felt like he was still asleep, his mind was foggy. He decided a shower might help him wake up. Whatever Dipper and Mabel had come up with could wait until he felt cognizant enough for conversation.

He realized he hadn’t packed any toiletries. Luckily there was enough provided by the hotel to last for today. He made a mental note to pick some up before the end of the day. He didn’t spend long in the shower, just long enough to get himself thoroughly clean. He toweled himself off, and dressed in a pair of dark denim jeans, his black combat boots, and a sleeveless _Misfits_ tee so the tattoos on his arms were visible, his right arm covered with a collage in ode to a few of his favorite zombie films. A few gaunt decaying faces spattered with gore with milky cataracts, and bony fingers crawling across his skin in ink. His left arm wasn’t nearly as decorated; it only held a hooded reaper brandishing a sickle above the skull patterned after a _D_ _ía de los Muertos_ calavera on his bicep. It ended in a webbed pattern that circled around his elbow where it stopped just above a bare forearm. His hair didn’t require much musing beyond the towel dry as it always seemed to stick straight up, though the thin patch of stubble sprouting across his jaw-line would require some attention before it grew much more. In the mirror, he could see his face, looking as tired as he felt with dark bags clinging to the underside of his eyes. His ears stuck out as they always did, hoops of black acrylic opening his lobes where he had them stretched out to zero gauge, and a black metal bar studded at each end pierced through his left ear where he had an industrial.

Norman scooped up his wallet, room-key, and cellphone as he was headed out the door. The clock on his screensaver read Nine-Thirty, and indicated he had a voicemail, and he had apparently missed a call from _Inkstatic._ He cursed to himself as he checked the message on his voicemail:

“Hey, Norm.” a scratchy voice came through on the other line, marred by years of smoking. His boss. “I heard about what happened with your place… That’s a pretty shit deal.” the man coughed roughly before continuing. “I can give you these next couple days to get things squared away, beyond that I’ll need you to come by or give me a call. Have a good one.” _Click._

Norman sighed in relief, with everything that went on last night, he had completely forgotten about work. Norman counted himself lucky as he knocked on the Twins’ door.

“Just a moment!” a cheerful voice responded, then the next moment the door swung open and Mabel was standing in the frame. “Norman! Good morning!” She swung her arms around him and pulled him into an embrace. Norman smiled softly and patted her back in response. “How’d you sleep?”

“Alright, I guess. I’ve slept worse.” He said, not troubling her with his dream. She ushered him into the room. It was like his own, ugly red wallpaper and beige carpet. Except this room had two beds instead of one. Dipper was sitting on one with a few books and manila folders with papers sticking from the corners scattered across it. “You guys came up with something?” He asked as Mabel shut the door behind him.

Dipper popped his head up from a book he had his nose buried in. His face was clean shaven, and the bruising around the split of his lip was going down, and he had a thin bandage across it, keeping the scab from splitting. “Ah. Kind of?” He said, shutting the book. “Well… no, not really. I’ve been scouring my bestiary and I haven’t found anything that would help us with Gideon outside the normal exorcism mumbo-jumbo… but…” he paused for a moment to stand from the bed and approach Norman with a very serious look on his face. “You weren’t messing with us last night, were you? About the whole… _you can see ghost’s_ thing, right?” Dipper narrowed his eyes at him quizzically.

“No…?” Norman said, puzzled. “Why would I lie about something like that?”

“We don’t think you’re lying, Norman.” Mabel said, planting herself at the foot of, what he only could assume as, her bed.

“I just need to make sure.” Dipper elaborated. “We’ve come across a few people who claimed they could see the dead… but they we’re mostly convenience-men and frauds. If you’re the real deal… you’d be the first.”

“Well. Like I was telling you guys last night… I used to see the dead when I was younger. Now I’m not so sure. Last night was the first time I’ve seen… _anything like that_ in years.” Norman responded.

Dipper nodded. “I believe you, Norman. I really do. But with things like this… I would prefer to have proof.”

Norman arched his brow. How the hell was he supposed to provide proof? “And you suppose I can prove it… how exactly?”

“We caught a case!” Mabel exclaimed excitedly. “And we want _your_ help solving it.”

“Mabel…” Dipper said with irritation leaking into his voice.

“Oh hush, Dipper.” She shot off her bed and was standing next to the two within a few seconds. “You don’t have to be all mysterious all the time.” she chided. Dipper sighed.

“Okay… how exactly am I supposed to help you two?” Norman asked, eyeing the twins.

“Well…” Dipper began. “You’ve been living in this town long enough to have heard about the rumors surrounding that mansion on the cliff, right?”

Norman nodded. He had heard people talk about the place being haunted, but he had never cared enough to check it out himself. “Yeah, and?”

“Mabel heard about it earlier, and I thought maybe we could check it out.” Dipper explained.

“And this is supposed to help us with Gideon… how?” Norman inquired.

Dipper let out a sigh. “It’s not… but I thought it would be a good place to start. If you can really see the dead, it may give us an edge.” Dipper really didn’t sound too sure, but Norman didn’t comment.

“With Gideon, or with proof I can actually see the dead?” Norman asked, pointedly. He was a little annoyed Dipper was doubting him. Especially after he trusted them with his sensitive information. They were the first people he’s told since leaving Blithe Hollow.

Dipper chuckled nervously, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Both? I hope.” He still didn’t sound too sure.

Norman let out an exasperated sigh. “Yeah. Okay. I guess it couldn’t hurt…” he trailed off.

“Great!” Mabel exclaimed, and she threw her arms around him again in a surprisingly crushing hug. “You boys will have a great time!”

“Wait… you’re not coming?” Norman asked, nervously.

“Nope! I have a different investigation I’m conducting.” She winked at him.

“About?”

“It’s a secret.” She responded in sing-song. So much for her telling Dipper not to be mysterious.

“It’s a completely unrelated thing.” Dipper elaborated, but it didn’t really tell Norman anything.  Dipper then cleared his throat. “I did a little poking around earlier, and this place is only a couple miles away. I hope you don’t mind walking, I’m leaving my sister the car.”

“I guess not.” He answered, voice sounding annoyed. He really didn’t have a problem with walking, but it felt like these two were hiding something, and he didn’t like it.

“Great!” Mabel responded enthusiastically. “I’ll see you boys out!”

Just like that, Dipper and Norman were out in the morning sun. It was a cloudless day, and the only signs of the storm last night were puddles evaporating on the side of the road.

“You got everything I’m going to need in this, right?” Dipper asked his sister as he shouldered a backpack on his left side.

“Yep. Should be everything. Have fun boys!” Mabel called, giving them a little wave from the driver’s seat and she pulled out of the parking lot, and sped off towards town.

“Your sister is a little weird, isn’t she?” Norman said as he watched the teal Mustang disappear.

Dipper’s snicker was full of mirth. “Yeah. She’s definitely something else.” He responded as they headed off in the opposite direction from which she drove. “Hey man, you hungry? We have plenty of time, and I think there’s a place we could eat on the way. You down?”

Norman couldn’t remember the last time he ate, and the grumble in his stomach at the mention of food reinforced that fact. “Yeah. I could eat.” He responded, the corners of his lips turned into a small smile.

Dipper responded with a smile of his own, “Heh. Cool. Follow me.” Dipper responded, and Norman did.

There were no sidewalks this far out of town, so they walked on pavement when traffic allowed, and through uncut grass when it didn’t. Norman was a few feet behind Dipper as the brunette led the way, but an awkward silence was cut between them. Norman didn’t mind it much. He was honestly enjoying the view… the scenery was nice, but Dipper was drawing most of his attention. He still had on the loose flannel button up with the sleeves rolled up above his elbows, and a pair of khaki shorts that Norman noticed hugged his hips well enough to where he didn’t need a belt and left little to his imagination. Hairy legs poked out beneath the cusps of his shorts, only to be smothered by a pair of clean white socks and converse shoes. Part of him felt guilty for paying so close attention to the guy, but Norman couldn’t help it. He found Dipper enthralling. Even if Dipper didn’t feel the same way, there was no harm in looking… he doubted their friendship would last beyond a few days.

“You’re going to have to forgive my sister.” Dipper said suddenly, pulling Norman from his thoughts. “She’s can come on a bit strong, sometimes. She means well, and for some reason she really likes you. So, there’s that…” While he spoke, Norman could catch up with a few long strides so they walked side-by-side. He noticed he was half-a-head taller than the brunette as he matched his gait.

“Is she crushing on me or something?” Norman inquired.

“She crushes on anyone who she thinks is hot, so… Yeah. Probably.” Dipper looked at him, lips turned into a smile.

Norman shook his head. “Yeah? She seems sweet. It’s too bad she’s not really my type.”

“Because she’s a girl?” Dipper asked, awkwardly.

Norman laughed in response. “No, man. I’ve had a girlfriend before.”

“Oh… I thought you were—”

“Nah, I usually don’t care about gender.” Norman interrupted. “She seems like a really nice girl, don’t get me wrong. If it wasn’t for her, I don’t know what I would have told those cops last night. I just don’t really see her and me that way.”

Dipper nodded in response. Norman could tell he wanted to ask something else, but he never did and silence fell between them again as they walked.

Lucky for them they arrived at a diner before the silence grew awkward again, or they worked up too much of a sweat. Norman couldn’t recall seeing this place, but he hardly went this far out of town since he had moved here. It was the only building on this stretch of road, made of red and white brick and glass and was surrounded by fields of unmown grass. Across the road was a hill that gradually steepened covered in a small thicket of trees which lead further up to a cliff. Below it was the sea. “That’s the place.” Dipper said, pointing beyond the trees to where a large sunbaked house stood dilapidated at the very top proud in its architecture. Even from a mile away, Norman could tell nature was reclaiming the structure. “We’ll check it out later. Food is first.” Dipper held the glass-paned door for Norman.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been here before.” Norman supplied. There was no hostess, so they picked their own booth against the glass windows that ran along the front of the building.

Dipper chuckled lightly. “Neither have I.” he said, voice carrying a hint of sarcasm. Norman looked at him, and Dipper was smiling pointedly, exposing rows of ivory teeth. Norman didn’t know why, but he laughed.

“G’mornin’.” A voice said, and a waitress appeared by their booth: a petite redhead carrying menus.

They both greeted her as she sat the menus in front of them. “Are ya’ll together or separate?” she asked, pulling out an order booklet.

“Together.” Dipper said quickly, before Norman could say anything, which irritated him: he could pay for his own food.

“Great. What can I get for ya’ll to drink?” she asked.

Norman ordered a coffee, black, while Dipper settled on a soda. “I’ll be back with your drinks in a moment.” her accent was thickly southern. For a moment, Norman wondered where she grew up, but he turned his attention to the brunette sitting in front of him.

“You know I could pay for myself.” he said.

“Yeah, but I still feel bad about—you know—so, it’s the least I can do.” Dipper responded, looking sheepish.

“It wasn’t your fault, dude. You don’t have to.”

“I know, man. I want to. It’ll make me feel better about the whole thing.”

Norman shrugged, he wasn’t going to argue with free food. “If you insist.”

“I do.” Dipper responded, and their waitress appeared with their drinks.

“Ya’ll two know what you want to order?” she asked as Norman took a sip of his coffee. The hot liquid bathed his tongue with bitters, but the caffeine made him feel awake.

“Yeah, do you guys do the whole Lunch-for-Breakfast thing? Cause I could really go for a burger.” Dipper said.

“We sure do. What would you like?”

Dipper placed his order, a greasy burger and fries. Norman settled on breakfast food. A simple waffle, with a side of eggs and bacon. Their waitress nodded, took their menus and left.

Silence cut between them as she left. Dipper was toying with his phone, and Norman was eyeing the mansion on the hill through the window. He was thinking about his dreams. The nightmare that had been plaguing him since he ran away from home. He had no idea who the people in his dream were; although, it unnerved him to think that they all felt familiar to him. Last night was the first time he remembered seeing himself in the dream as well. He never experienced it that way. Always seeing upset redacted faces, tears were the only thing visible. He knew that whoever they were, they meant a great deal to him. Especially the one he was arguing with. He felt love for whoever it was, but he remembered in that moment it all being irrelevant.

“So, uh, I have an odd question.” Dipper announced, calling Norman’s attention back to him.

“Okay, shoot.” Norman replied.

“What’s your last name?” Dipper asked, eyes squinting curiously in his direction.

It took him off guard, why did something like that matter? It wasn’t like that information could help either of them with their Gideon problem. He guessed maybe the brunette was trying to get to know him better, so he answered honestly. “Legally? It’s Prendergast.” he answered, and Dipper’s eyebrows scrunched together under the bill of his hat like it didn’t make sense to him. “It used to be Babcock, but…. I had it changed after I ran away.” Dipper’s face contorted from confusion into surprise. Like what he had said was the final piece of a puzzle the brunette was fitting together. “Why do you ask?”

“I was just curious! That’s it!” He responded too quickly like he was defending an accusation that wasn’t there. It caused his voice to break, leaving the end to come out almost like a squeak.

Norman arched an eyebrow, and he stared at the brunette pointedly, watching a beat of sweat drop down his cheek. Why did it feel like Dipper wasn’t being completely honest? He was about to say something when their waitress came by, dropping plates of food in front of them. “Give me a holler if ya’ll need anything else.” she said sweetly, and went to tend to her other customers.

Dipper was already digging into his food as Norman dredged his waffle in syrup, he wasn’t going to let the brunette off that easy. “You’re not lying to me, are you?” Dipper nearly choked on a few fries at the accusation. He took a swig from his soda and cleared his throat.

“What? No way, man! Why would I lie?” was the retort.

Norman studied him for a second as he drank another sip of coffee. “Maybe not lying, but you’re not being completely honest with me.” His gaze was sharp, boring into Dipper’s deer-caught-in-the-headlights look.

Dipper took a deep breath. He gathered up his composure and looked Norman directly in the eyes. “Okay, look man. Full disclosure? I asked you about your last name because I thought I recognized you yesterday. I didn’t say anything then, because I didn’t think any of this,” he waved his hands above his head, indicating the situation they currently found themselves in, “would happen. But now that we’re sitting here… I was curious… so I asked.”

Norman nodded, satisfied. “Well do you? I don’t remember ever seeing you before yesterday.”

Dipper shook his head, and met Norman’s gaze. “No. I was mistaken.” His voice was blunt, and Norman accepted the answer.

“Okay.” he responded.

“Okay? That’s it?”

“Yeah. That’s it. Thanks for the food.” Norman said as he dug in to his waffle. The sweetness of the syrup washed away the sour taste in his mouth. Dipper was hiding something from him, but Norman didn’t press any further. He doubted whatever it was would matter in the long run, and he would rather trust the man rather than to doubt him.

“No problem.” Dipper responded softly, blinking away whatever emotion he was feeling behind eyelids.

Silence followed as they ate, save the scrape of cutlery against ceramic plates and clamor from other patrons. Norman’s eyes drifted between the brunette sitting across from him and his surroundings. He recalled in his youth when he could easily see the dead. They didn’t care what time of day it was, choosing to speak to him during both daylight hours as well as the middle of the night. So long as he would pay them attention. Now he could only see the live bodies of the other hungry patrons in the diner. None were transparent and surrounded by an ethereal green glow.

Norman finished his cup of coffee, and hailed for another one. Their waitress delivered it with very little wait, eager to earn her tip. He ate more slowly than Dipper, who scarfed down his food like he was raised by a pack of wolves. Norman found it oddly endearing, yet he was conflicted between the scruffy allure he held, and the nagging thought he was hiding something. Dipper was finished with his meal before he knew it.

Dipper remained patient as Norman finished his own food, switching between the sweetness of the waffle and the savory saltiness the bacon and eggs provided. It wasn’t too much longer before he finished his plate, and Dipper perked up from behind his phone. “You done? We good?” Norman nodded, and Dipper called for the check. As they rose from the booth, Norman removed his wallet from his back pocket and left a generous tip. Dipper may have paid for their meal, but he was going to make sure their waitress was compensated for her excellent service.

Dipper shouldered his backpack again as they left, and Norman stretched tense muscles. “You ready for this?” Dipper asked him. Norman nodded as he checked his phone. The time read a little after eleven. “Let’s go!” Dipper seemed energized.

“Yeah.  Lets.” Norman replied ironically.

The climb as a lot steeper than either of the two expected. Uncut grass gave way to coarse rocky ground coated in fallen leaves and sticks that cracked underfoot. Every few feet the incline seemed to sharpen, causing Norman to lose his footing occasionally. Dipper caught him more times than he was comfortable admitting, but it didn’t save him from cutting up his fingers on sharp rocks that drew thin lines of blood.

Dipper, however, seemed completely in his element. Finding footholds amongst tangled roots, and pulling the taller man through paths that seemed to materialize beneath his feet. Even the backpack on his shoulder didn’t seem to weigh him down. Norman was confounded. It wasn’t like he was a stranger to the woods, having spent some time among the trees speaking and playing with his ghostly foremother in his youth. But the woods in Massachusetts was a different beast compared to the steep terrain he was climbing now. Sweat was beading along his forehead, and he swiped it off with the back of his hand, the salt stinging the cuts along his fingers.

“I get it now.” Norman said, feeling winded. “You are part animal, aren’t you? What is it? Bobcat? Timber wolf?” The sarcasm in his question caused Dipper to laugh heartily.

“Nah, man. I’m a hundred percent human.” he replied, grabbing a hold of Norman’s forearm and pulling him past a tricky tangle of roots.

“You sure about that? You seem unnaturally adept at this.” Norman responded, unconvinced.

Dipper laughed again, “Yeah, man. I just spent a lot of time in the woods when I was younger. How else do you think I grew to be so ruggedly handsome?” Dipper joked, and it made Norman roll his eyes.

“Genetics?” he answered sarcastically. “Being part bobcat?”

Dipper chuckled again, shaking his head. “It shouldn’t be too much farther now.”

Norman grunted in displeasure. The distance didn’t matter, it was still too far. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“I am. You should really get out more, Norman.” Dipper grinned wide, flashing his teeth beneath a swollen lip. Despite Norman’s displeasure, he could profess to enjoying the company. Dipper kept him from landing on his face whenever he took a misstep and slipped. They shared jests between them. At one point, after a particularly impish joke, Norman felt the urge to tackle the brunette to the ground. Just so he could see how it felt. He quickly thought better of it when he saw a break in the pines, leading to an overgrown stone path, surrounded by wildflowers and weeds.

“There it is.” Dipper said after they passed through the trees and stepped on to weather worn stone. Fifty meters ahead, the mansion stood three stories proud. Green vines snaked across the front of the façade, clinging to the cracked weather-worn white boards that made up the painted wooden paneling. Nearly all the windows were broken in some degree, either cracked or shattered completely. Dipper shrugged off his backpack as they reached the entry-way of the manse, an awning supported by wooden pillars stripped of paint. Veins of vacant termites’ tunnels curled the circumference.

“How old is this place?” Norman asked, reaching out with thin fingers to trace along the hollow veins.

“Has to be at least a hundred years or more.” Dipper said, pulling a few devices from his pack. A camcorder, a digital recorder, and a device that looked like an electrical gauge Norman didn’t recognize. “The foundation is stone.” He said, pointing to the side, where weathered wood met rock. “I don’t know how stable this place is, so we’d better watch our step. Hold this for me, please?” Dipper asked, and passed Norman the digital recorder.

Norman nodded in agreement, eyeing the other device as he accepted the recorder. “What are these for?”

“Documentation, mostly. I have the camera because unlike you, I can’t see the dead, and it may pick up something. The recorder is for voice phenomena. And this,” he wiggled the gauge in front of him, “is an EMF Detector. It measures electromagnetic fields, and any disturbances usually indicates a ghostly presence.  From my understanding, the people who owned this house never had it wired for electricity, so if this thing picks up anything. We’re in the presence of a ghost. If you see anything, please describe it to me with as much detail as you can.” Dipper explained, and Norman nodded. He really didn’t expect to see anything, but after what happened last night, he should expect anything.

Dipper tested the doorknob. It was rusted brass, and didn’t give until he applied ample force. The metal groaned loudly as Dipper used his left shoulder to lodge the door open. The metal of the hinges screeched as the door swung inward. “You ready?” Dipper asked. Beyond the door was pure darkness. No light seemed to penetrate inside.

Norman was suddenly unsure about entering, the darkness seemed unnatural to him. He swallowed his uneasiness down, and steeled his nerves. “Yeah…” his voice came weakly as he followed the brunette beyond the threshold into the ruin. The floorboards whined with each step the two took beyond the door, and then…

The door slammed shut behind them, splintering the doorframe. Dipper exclaimed in surprise, wheeled around pointing his camera at the door. He had already activated its night vision, and the green glow from the screen illuminated the wooden frame. Dipper tested the doorknob, but it was no use. The rusted metal knob wouldn’t even turn. “It’s stuck.” Dipper announced as he turned around to face Norman.

“Great.” Norman supplied, sardonically. His stomach was twisting in knots. The air around them was stale, and there was no light coming through the broken windows. None of this felt right. To Norman, they didn’t even feel like they were on Earth anymore. Dipper bounced the green glow of his camera across the walls, that was covered in faded flowery wallpaper that still clung to the walls.

“Maybe this was a bad idea.” Dipper said, he felt it too. “None of this feels right. It’s the middle of the day… yet it’s pitch black in here…” he trailed off, and the camera died in his hand. “Yeah, that’s not a good sign. We should look for a way out of here…” Norman was about to agree, but as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he remembered what Agatha had said to him last night. Is this where he would get answers? A chill crept up his spine, and he noticed they were standing in a foyer that led to a staircase. To the right of the stairs, there was an archway that led into another room. Norman noticed a faint glow of light. His body moved on its own, one step after the other. Dipper called after him, but he ignored the brunette giving him no choice but to follow.

The floor no longer protested their weight as the two made their way towards the faint source of light. When Norman turned the corner into the room, what he saw shocked him more than he thought it would. A fire was crackling in a stone hearth, encompassed by laurels. The flames moved erratically, like they were trying to escape some jail. That wasn’t the part that disturbed him the most. In front of the hearth was an old wooden rocking chair, and in the chair sat a woman. She didn’t look to be much older than forty, her long dark hair spilled out from beneath a quilt she had draped over her head. Her face was gaunt, wrinkled above her brow and thin lips. Her nose was small, but sharp. The tip pointed upward. Her most stunning feature were her eyes. Iridescent opal irises that shifted in color surrounded the black pools of her pupils. Around her body were more quilts, making her body look thicker than it was. In her hands, she held gilded knitting needles and they clinked together as she pulled and wove from a bundle of yarn at her feet.

“You are late.” she spoke, and he could feel her voice vibrating to the very core of his being. Beside Norman, Dipper cursed. “Both of you.” She corrected, turning her gaze to the brunette beside him. “Careful of your words, Mason. They hold power here.”

“Who are you?” He asked, but his voice sounded insignificant compared to hers.

“Norman knows who I am.” she said, turning her eyes back on him. He could feel her gaze pass straight through him, and he knew she was considering his soul. “You were foolish to bring him, Young One.” she said, and he felt scolded.

“He brought me.” he replied, his voice was steadier than his hands.

“I am aware of the circumstances. Yet this is still a fool’s errand. I was only meant to for you, and a lot sooner than this, yet you bring him along, and now of all times. Why?”

“I… don’t know.” he responded.

“I do.” she said, and Norman’s heart leapt into his throat. “You are scared. Scared of the dead. Of the nightmares that they bring. So, you seek comfort, solace. Ignorance behind a blinded eye. You come seeking answers, but you have the wrong questions.” She stared at him with eyes shifting jade and lapis.

Norman stared back, transfixed by her gaze. There was a tightness clinging around his wrist, a sweaty palm pressing into his pressure point. He ignored it. Finally, he asked: “What are you?”

She smiled, her teeth were yellowed with age. “I am many things, and go by many names.” she said. “Your ancestor called me The Crone, a title left over from the archaic Angelo-Pagans. I am far older than that. The Grecians worshiped me as three: the Moirai. Their Sisters of Fate. The Roman’s called to me as Clotho. The Egyptian’s as Shai. You may refer to me as Destiny.

You have a great journey ahead of you, Prendergast. A Providence, if you will. You are bound by my strings to the man who takes your hand, to the woman who loves you as kin, and the companion who you left home. But it is perilous, and not of your make. Great forces vie for control of you. There is darkness in your future, Young One. You may likely not survive.”

When she stopped speaking, Norman could feel the vibration in every molecule in his body threatening to rip away from their gravitational axis. Strong fingers curled stiffly around his, and he could feel his heartbeat against the digits. He knew it was Dipper clinging onto his hand, and it soothed him. “How can I stop it?”

“You cannot.” She responded, the words shook him harder than anything she said before.

“But Agatha said—”

“She lied. There is no stopping what is coming for you, Norman. Your ancestor believes you can, only because her naivety blinds her from design.”

Suddenly anger poured from Norman like a torrent. “Then why the HELL am I here?!” He demanded, and when he spoke the word hell, the flames in the hearth shot up in glee.

His Destiny only smiled exposing her yellowed teeth like warmed butter. “To learn what you are, and now so he may know, too.” She lifted a hand, a long finger outstretched pointing to the brunette who was clutching his hand. Dipper stood still beside him, frozen with shock and horror and disbelief, but his touch grounded Norman.

She spoke again. “You believe the sight is all you possess? You can do much more than see lost souls, speak to them. You can reach beyond the veil, access compacity you cannot yet fathom.

Your touch can sway Death. Your thoughts can move mountains. Your words can make Life weep. But they are beyond your grasp. They demand trial. They demand sacrifice. Are you willing?” Her eyes were glowing rosewood as she studied him.

Norman stared back, his blue eyes meeting the shifting irradiance in her gaze. Norman remembered when he was younger, how alienated he felt when peers called him freak. How he felt when his parents stared at him in disbelief. Agatha’s curse, all her fury and hatred. The look of disgust on his Father’s face when he had caught him with another boy. His mother’s cries when he ran, heart full of anguish and loneliness. He remembered Neil then, always smiling and never letting the world get him down. His first real friend. He remembered Trucker Bob, in his mirth. The man who introduced him to art, to the joy of a tattoo gun in his hand and ink in his flesh. The man who taught him how to be proud of himself, and never back away from his feelings. He never wanted any of this, and so he decided. He filled his lungs with air, and proclaimed proudly:

“No. I am not willing.”

An icy cold chill filled the room, yet the fire seemed to leap higher. “That’s unfortunate. I would have helped if you were willing.” She snapped her fingers, and flames leapt from the hearth and landed on the floor between them with a heavy thud. The forgotten EMF detector squealed in a high-pitched tenor, and a howl of rage erupted from the ball of fire, and tongues of flame whipped out around it sprouting arms, and legs, then a head. Destiny waved her hand, and the fire dissipated, leaving a burned form behind. A short man in a powdered blue suit, charred black from the waist down. His skin was pale where it wasn’t broken or charred, split or festered pink. His face looked half-melted—a cheek burned away to expose charred bone. His hair was white and frizzed in a pompadour style. Norman realized who it was immediately.

Beside him, Dipper gasped in shock. “Gideon.” He cried, a mix of emotions pouring from his breath. It was then Norman noticed the form wasn’t translucent, but solid. Destiny was gone, disappeared in a blaze that consumed her quilt and devoured her form, leaving only smoke behind.

“YOU!” Gideon roared, pointing a charred finger at Dipper’s direction. “This is your fault!” he seethed anger and hatred, all pointed at the man at his side. Norman’s hand was empty and Gideon rushed towards them. The smell of burning flesh mixed with mildew and mold and sulfur stung in his nose. A floorboard cracked underneath Norman’s foot and he fell backwards, landing on his back as he watched Dipper raise his arms in front of him, bracing himself for impact. It never came. Gideon was within inches of Dipper before he was stopped and bounced backward, like he ran into an invisible shield. He collapsed harmlessly against the rotten rocking chair that had held Destiny before.

“Holy shit it worked!” Dipper called out, surprise and elation filling his voice. He reached out, and pulled Norman from the mess of broke floorboards he had fallen in. “The sigil worked, man! You’re fucking amazing!” Dipper looked like he was about to hug him, but it was stopped by Gideon screams.

“You did this!” He had picked himself off the floor, leaving the rotten wood a pile of embers. Smoke was filling the room now, and underneath Gideon’s feet, flames burst from his soles. “I can’t take my revenge because of you! Fuck what He says. I’m going to kill you.” He swore, and flames raced up his legs coating the charred remains as descended on them again. Dipper was quick to put himself between the two, but he wasn’t immune to fire. Something occurred to Norman in that moment, as he watched the dead-man rush them. Destiny’s words echoed in his head. _Your touch can sway death._ But it wasn’t possible, no matter how powerful Agatha or She had claimed he was, he had no power over death. Unless…

Gideon was a foot away when he pushed himself in front of Dipper, his right hand extended. First, his hand was licked by fire and it seared off hair, but then his palm touched cold dead flesh, and everything stopped.

Everything around him was on fire, and he couldn’t move. His legs were crushed, trapped beneath a burning support beam. Smoke was filling his lungs, choking him of oxygen. His hands were burning, skin turning black and cooking from the fire. He was screaming for help, for someone to get him out of there. Dipper appeared out of nowhere, the collar of his shirt pulled over his mouth and nose. There was tears in his eyes, and soot staining his hat. He shook his head, explaining there was nothing he could do. He knew that, but it still filled him with hate. He pleaded for Dipper not to go, even though he knew it was folly. There was no reason for them both to die here, and yet he hated him for leaving. Each step Dipper took as he fled filled him with more rage, hatred and regret. He would never see Mabel again. Never feel her skin, or her lips. Never see her in the wedding gown. Never get to say _I do_. He cursed Dipper for bringing him to this place. He cursed him with every ounce of his soul as smoke filled his lungs. As flames licked across tender skin, filling him with agonizing pain every second his life ticked by as darkness surrounded him. Silencing him. Then he was no more…

Norman’s eyes never left Gideon as he witnessed the moment of his death. He felt could feel every emotion he had felt in that moment, every ounce of pain. It made Norman sad. There was no reason for this man to exist in his suffering as he did. He wished he could ease his pain.

“What’s going on?” Dipper asked, but Norman ignored him. His hand had stopped Gideon cold, and he was stiff and unmoving as any cadaver should. His eyes were rolled back into his head, and every ounce of flame or smoke he oozed had gone. Where his fingers touched the dead-man, a soft golden light radiated.

“You’re done.” Norman said. He felt no anger towards him for his lost home, or the attempt at his soul. Only sympathy. “You don’t have to suffer any longer. You can be at peace.”

Gideon didn’t respond, or likely couldn’t. Instead, where Norman’s hand rest against his face light seemed to consume him, eating away at the energy that made his body corporeal. Soon he was translucent, and then gone.

Strong hands seized his shoulders, then, and Dipper whipped him around to face him. His eyes were wide with surprise. “What the hell was that?! I could see him! And then you touched him and now he’s gone? What the hell happened?”

“I-I don’t know.” Norman answered, shrugging his grip from his arms. His head felt like it was being split open, and there was a wet warmth against his upper lip. He brought his hand up to wipe it away, and when he brought his hand away he saw blood. A sudden surge of vertigo surrounded him, and he felt faint. Suddenly he collapsed forward against a solid body frame and blacked out.


End file.
